The Social Origins of Greek Tragedy to the period of Aiskhylos and the role of Aiskhylos in the development of mature tragedy

Lecture delivered to students of Ramakrishna Sarada Mission Vivekananda Vidyabhavan as extension lecture on 24.12.2002.

The rejection of evolutionary theories of the emergence of Greek tragedy, originally proposed by Jane Harrison, Gilbert Murray and others, and associated with the evolutionary school of anthropology (Lewis Henry Morgan, Frederick Engels, Robert Briffault), resulted in the development of a view of Greek tragedy which restricted its history to a few great men – Thespis, who created tragedy; Aiskhylos, who created the second actor, Sophocles, who created the third actor and wrote the perfect tragedy in Oedipus Tyrannos, and so on. I propose to argue the case for an evolutionary history.

Aristotle’s account of the origins of tragedy, read carefully, is a pointer in this direction. Tragedy, in his account, had humble origins. We need to look at the exact passage, since it has been translated in various ways. For those studying in Bengali I would suggest Sisir Das’s Kavyatatva, a direct Greek to Bengali translation. A close scrutiny shows that Aristotle is talking about the origins or tragedy in a deeper social past than is implied by selecting Thespis as the first tragedian.

In fact, we have to look at the emergence of the cult of Dionysus in order to understand the emergence of tragedy. If you look at Greek religious myths, you are at once struck by the fact that Dionysus was a very distinctive god. And the performances of tragedy in the 5^th Century in Athens were ritual civic events associated with the worship of Dionysos.

Tragic and comic performances took place at the City Dionysia in late March. Comic performances were produced at the "Lenaean" festival, another festival of Dionysus held in January. Yet Dionysus was not a first class Olympian God. Rather, his history and his cults betoken a subaltern origin, even after his absorption into a unified pantheon. Dionysus was the son of Semmele. When Zeus was courting her, an irate and jealous Hera craftily persuaded her to grant Zeus the boon of coming to her in the way he had come to court Hera. But that dress of Zeus in full panopaly was too much for the mortal Semmele, who died, giving premature birth to Dionysus. Zeus then attached him to his nee, from which the baby was at last born. Zeus gave him in safe-keeping to the Kouretes. But Hera persuaded some titans to kill the child. Zeus discovered that, killed the titans and gave life back to Dionysus, and elevated him to Godhead. The repeated tales of death and rebirth are significant. Each stage in life involved a death and rebirth. We are familiar with one stage – the transition to adulthood through the rites of passage. But translation to divine status, too, was a form of death and rebirth.

The myths connected to Dionysus include one where some women had been driven mad by the God, and had commited a murder in their madness. Now they were running through the Peloponnese, and the priest Melampous was chasing them, in order to purify them and cure them of the madness. In another, very famous myth, King Pentheus, who harassed the worshippers of Dionysus, was driven by the God to try to look at the secret activities of a Dionysiac cult, all of whose members were women, and was discovered by the women, who in the peak of their ecstasy did not recognize the King, but killed him as an interloper.

All these stories have certain important lessons. The royal displeasure at the cult and the preponderance of women indicate that in its origin this was a plebeian/subaltern institution. The origin in women is also signified by the other story. Apart from the priests, most members were probably in origin women. In one form, Orphism, the Dionysiac cult expresses the view that the worldly life is full of tears, and the ultimate goal is to get out of the cycle of deaths and rebirths. Aside from its evident similarity with Buddhism, this is interesting, as once more, it expresses the ideology of subaltern classes, albeit in a submissive mode, where they cannot envisage rebellion, but at most hope for salvation through an end to being reborn. Yet the same stress on the middle path, the same view of existing life as exploitative, could give rise to a democratic ideology. It is not surprising that the City Dionysia was instituted by Peisistratos, who was trying to ensure lower class support while he eliminated his aristocratic rivals. But with this, there was also an appropriation of the popular cult by the upper class men. Women were by and large ignored. The lower classes were sought to be kept in a subordinate position by peisistratos. Nor was this approach unique to him. Periandros of Korinth, or Kleisthenes of Sikyon likewise consolidated their powers as tyrants by promoting non-aristocratic social layers and their cults – Dionysus in Korinth, Adratus in Sikyon.

The mystic cults in Greece played a function, for a considerable time, of replacing the lost solidarity of the tribe, when class society created extreme polarity. Tribal ritual involved growing into adulthood through rites of passage. This growth from one stage of life to another was also viewed as death and rebirth – in Greece as in India, where the initiated Brahmin is still called the dvija (twice born). The adolescent, passing through the experience of being reborn as a full member of the tribe, is shown sacred objects and explained clan mysteries. In the mystic cults, the rites and mysteries of the cult are explained in the same way. But the transition from cult to open activities was far more difficult.

Tragedy originated from the Dithyramb. In it, a chorus danced to the accompaniment of music and choral songs. In course of time, this primitive dithyramb gave way to two trends – the mature dithyramb – music and dances; and tragedy. In the tragedy, the leader was the person who explained – hypocrinomoi, also the term meaning an actor. Why was he needed? When the secrets of a cult were explained to the uninitiated, mere mimetic action was not enough. Hence the verbalisation.  Aristotle on the origin of tragedy --The separation of the genres of tragedy and comedy from choric rituals, quite literally "song and dance" routines

The hybrid character of Greek plays: spoken "scenes" alternate with sung choral passages

Aristotle's hypothesis that the spoken parts had their origin in a "prologue” or explanation of the song that followed. In time the explanation takes over. The stages: Thespis introduces standing songs and (perhaps) a chorus leader who talks and explains. Aiskhylos introduces a second actor. Sophocles introduces a third actor. The reduction in quantity and significance of choral odes.

Splits within the chorus – strophe and anti-strophe, reflect divisions within society. But individuals and their divergent views – can only be shown by bringing in conflicts between different persons. Hence the second actor used by Aiskhylos.

Outdoor theatre: the amphitheatre, the "orchestra," and the "skene" or scene.

Very simple structures: the elaborate masonry theatres date from the fourth century when the works of the "Big Three" had become classics. The "rhetorical" quality of drama and analogs to other civic assemblies such as the juries or assemblies. Performances were competitions with prizes determined by a jury system.

Funding of the chorus and the actors. In the Democracy, a means was found that would asatisfy all. A rich man would have to be the choreagos – pay for the chorus. Originally the actor (only one, before Aiskhylos) was not paid, but the chorus was. Originally the playwright had to pay the chorus. This implies that originally the playwright was the leader. By and by this changed. All were paid. The Choreagos was an honoured and coveted position. So the rich got honour and the poorer people got payment/entertainment.

Tragedy dominated by Aiskhylos (525-458), Sophocles (497-406), and Euripides (485-409).

Surviving plays date from ca. 470 to 406 with about two thirds of the 33 surviving plays dating from 435-406. The surviving plays, 7 each by Aiskhylos and Sophocles, and 19 plays by Euripides are a small fraction of total 5th century production, about 3%

From a very general point of view, tragedy is concerned with ethical problems: what is good and what is bad, what is bad and what is worse, and what are the penalties for bad or worse deeds. Unlike most of modern drama which we call "entertainment," Greek tragedy does not assume that those values, "good," "bad," "worse," are already clear and universally accepted; on the contrary, it pits values against one another so that arguments, equally persuasive, almost like geometric proofs, are given for both conflicting sides. We often hear or read: "Greek tragedies are great works," or more generally: "Greek thought was great." This doesn't tell us much. Why are those great? Where does their "greatness" reside? This is what's magnificent about Greek thought: in the same way as the ancient Greeks didn't trust intuition or common sense when it came to the Pythagorean theorem or the uniqueness of the center of a circle, but insisted on logical proof, they didn't trust intuition, prejudice or instinct when confronted with moral or political values. Everything was open to question, to quest. And the conflicts in society were worked out in tragedy, with real problems finding a resonance there.

A creative reading of Greek tragedy means this: to make explicit the assumptions which are not explicitly stated in the plays but only become clear after careful analysis. In the case of tragedy, these assumptions will not be of a logical kind, as in geometry, but will rather have to do with the hard facts of our human condition.

One of the greatest existing plays is the trilogy collectively called The Oresteia. From a general point of view, Aiskhylos' trilogy is concerned with the specific ethical problem of retribution for murder--or, using a revealing metaphor (how revealing we will discuss later), for spilling blood. The political implications are easy to spot: if the next-of-kin must avenge the blood of a murdered person, this may lead to an unending chain of retaliation where many citizens are killed, weakening the city-state, the pólis. Thus, to stabilize the community, the task of revenge is entrusted to the state and its judicial system. In the same way as the axiomatic method was created to avoid the abyss of infinite regression in logical proofs, state justice was created to avoid the abyss of infinite progression in murder.

Agamemnon, king of Argos, was guilty of several blood crimes. His father, Atreus, had done a horrible thing. Thyestes, Atreus' brother, wanted to supplant him as king and had seduced his sister-in-law. Atreus feigned reconciliation, invited his brother to dinner, and served him the flesh of his nephews, Thyestes' sons (cooked, of course). The guilt of this horrible crime devolved on Atreus' heir, Agamemnon, according to a most ancient law whereby the parents' guilt was inherited by children. Furthermore, Agamemnon had done some horrible deeds himself: as he and his army were ready to sail and fight against Troy, the gods or their interpreters, the diviners, decreed that to get a favourable breeze for sailing, Agamemnon's young daughter, Iphigeneia, had to be offered in sacrifice. So the king sent for her, telling his wife, Clytemnestra, that he wanted to marry the girl to Achilles. The girl was slain, and the army sailed off. After ten years of fighting, Troy was conquered and razed to the ground, but Clytemnestra never forgave her husband. As you see, what we, usually unthinkingly and often self-righteously, call "family values," constituted a problem for the Greeks.

Aiskhylos' Agamemnon opens with a night watchman on the roof of the palace, waiting for the beacon that will tell of the fall of Troy and the return of the king. Is it a coincidence that the first great tragedy of modern times, Shakespeare's Hamlet, opens, too, with night watchmen on the roof of a palace, anxious about foul deeds going on below? I don't know.

In the first song of the chorus (lines 176-9 of the Agamemnon) we hear, from the mouths of the old men of Argos: "(God) opened one road for human wisdom, establishing the rule: we learn through suffering." We have already talked about the first axiom operating in tragedy: murder calls for retribution. Here we encounter the second axiom of the tragic way of thinking: Suffering is the only way of learning. We may feel tempted to say, those Greek poets were masochists, but that would be imposing a much later psychological category on Greek thought; suffering need not be brought about by ourselves: Destiny is most often the agency, and destiny was a much respected and feared agency among the ancients. Some suffer and learn nothing, others suffer and grow wise.

The third axiom, often repeated by the chorus in the Agamemnon, is a principle which Euclid would have called a "common notion" rather than an axiom, since it was fundamental in much Greek ethical thought, as well as in Greek art, not just in tragedy: measure, the middle ground between two extremes, is to be sought. Too much of anything is bad. Too much wealth, the chorus of old men sings in the Agamemnon, brings misfortune, and Greek medicine (Hippocrates) considered health a middle ground: there had to be a balancing of all the humours. The opposite of measure was called "hubris," and it was hubris which often brought disaster upon epic and tragic heroes. Those ethical axioms:

1.Retribution
2.Learning through suffering
3.That the middle ground is always good

are the three basic axioms of Aiskhylos’ tragedy. It is important to keep these defining axioms in mind, especially since the words "tragedy" and "tragic" are used nowadays in loose and irresponsible senses, meaning anything that's bloody and sad.

 Agamemnon returns carrying as a slave lovely Cassandra, the daughter of the king of Troy. Clytemnestra persuades her husband to tread on blood-red cloth on his way to the palace, where, unseen by the public (for there are never killings on the scene in Greek tragedy), she murders Agamemnon and Cassandra, not before the latter, talking to the unbelieving chorus, prophesies all that's about to happen. Clytemnestra then appears before the chorus, proud of her deed, and Aegisthus, her lover, the son of Thyestes and cousin of Agamemnon, announces he's the new ruler, all the while threatening the horrified old men.

The next play, the Choephori, opens seven years later, with a chorus of women, servants of Clytemnestra. They, together with princess Elektra, are about to offer libations of wine and oil at the grave of the dead king. They all yearn for the arrival of prince Orestes, Agamemnon's son, the only one who can avenge his father's murder. Orestes appears with his friend Pylades (corresponding to Horatio in Hamlet); Orestes has been commanded by the great god Apollo to kill the murderers and, using subterfuge, he succeeds in killing first Aegisthus, then Clytemnestra.

In the third play, the Eumenides, Orestes is pursued, haunted by the Furies or Erinyes, who want to exact the awful penalty for matricide. He goes to Athens where, at the court of the Areopagus, the gods discuss what to do. Apollo defends Orestes, the Erinyes want his head. The jury is divided, and Athena casts the deciding vote, favouring Orestes.

Let's now try to read what's not explicitly said, either in the axioms or otherwise. There's no single way of reading any text, but some ways are better than others--better woven, we may say: the word "text" itself originally meant something woven. The gender implications are particularly significant. The leader of the chorus says of Clytemnestra: “That woman, she manoeuvres like a man”. Women are not meek, but appear as a defeated social group. The tragedies from Aiskhylos to Euripides show that violence in the relationship between men and women, at a terrible level, was ever present. Women’s subordination had to be established by force.

The woman who goes beyond the limits the men want to set is evil, and must be shown to be evil and destroyed. The evil weaver is explicitly likened to the patient spider: Clytemnestra has waited ten years to trap her husband in her fatal web, to envelop him in that crimson robe; when the old men of the chorus see Agamemnon's corpse at his wife's feet, they lament (twice!) that "the king has been caught in a spider's web." Notice that bad weavers are selfish, while good weavers always weave for the benefit of others (mostly men).

The imperative of male domination runs through the trilogy, indeed through all Greek tragedy. In the third play, the Eumenides, while defending Orestes, who had killed his own mother, Apollo makes an amazing statement: The mother is not the true parent of the child, the father is. The womb is just the place where the totally formed child--formed by the father--receives protection and nourishment until it's born. To prove it, the god of light and logic points to Athena, who, the Greeks believed, had been born motherless, directly out of Zeus' head, full grown. And of course, it is Athena, the goddess of wisdom whose statue graces our library, the virgin, the master weaver who did not need a mother, she's the one who, near the end of The Eumenides, casts the deciding vote in favor of Orestes.

For different views in the origins of Greek tragedy and the role of Aiskhylos
Gerald F. Else, The Origin and Early Form of Greek Tragedy,

E. Evans-Pritchard, Dithyramb, Tragedy, Comedy

George Thomson, Aeschylus and Athens

Sujato Bhadra and Kunal Chattopadhyay, Prachin Greek Samaj O Sanskriti